Gorillaz: Summer's Fading in Flames
by ThisIsZen
Summary: Summer's Fading in Flames is a fanfic based on the events in the El Manana video, and the events that occured after, under the assumption that it was real and that Noodle survived.
1. Windmill, Windmill

She sat at the edge of her sanctuary, her legs dangling into thin air as she listened to the sound-system in the windmill belting out El Mañana. It was enough, right now, just to sit, eyes closed, on the edge of a floating island, listening to the band's latest CD. She didn't want to have to land the thing, but it was something that would happen eventually.

_Summer don't know me no more,  
Eager man, that's all…_

She opened her eyes, a trace of a smile lingering on her lips as she stood, turning and walking back towards the windmill. This song was too sad for this, she had to switch tracks. That was when she noticed the sound, which she realized had been growing for some time. Helicopter propellers.

_Summer don't know me,  
He just left me loathe in myself,  
Cause I do know lord,  
From you that,  
Just die, yeah…_

The choppers climbed up above the island, spinning around the confused teen. She only realized what was going on a second before it would have been too late, and managed to get a running start as the helicopters opened fire.

The bullets tore at the ground, the deafening sound of the guns firing overwhelmed by the fft sound of the bullets passing by. It was a miracle that she managed to reach the windmill in time, though it didn't offer anything in the form of stopping the bullets, as they tore through in a line inches from her head. Then the gunshots stopped, and she could hear a crack. Then, just the faint sound of the helicopters, growing fainter. Had they given up already?

_I saw that day,  
Lost my mind,  
Lord I'm fine,  
Maybe in time,  
You'll want to be mine…_

Somehow, the sound system had survived the bombardment, and though the volume was diminished due to bullet damage, the boom box the speakers were hooked up to was still playing.

Teenage curiosity took over, and the sixteen-year-old stood up, walking outside to find her island aflame. One of the windmill rotors was snapped in half, explaining the cracking sound she'd heard earlier. And then the sound of propellers grew again. They were moving faster this time, and she practically had to dive to reach the windmill before the second hail of bullets commenced.

_Don't stop the buck when it comes,  
It's the dawn, you'll see…_

She lay in the middle of the windmill, battered and panting, hearing the entire island creak and groan. The structural damage to the windmill was too great for the island to stay in the sky. She could feel the entire thing begin to sink, and the sounds of the propellers were no longer audible. Murdoc, Russel, sorry I can't be around for the next album… 2D, thanks… It was startling to be thinking these things. She'd been enjoying the air a few minutes ago.

_Money won't get there,  
Ten years past it now,  
You'll flee…_

The fires on the island had grown out of control, and the island was producing a thick cloud of black smoke as it plunged. The downward motion made standing up even harder, but she managed, though she had taken a beating in the second attack. The stereo was still playing, too.

Then, slowly, everything went vertical. She was able to keep standing by grabbing onto the windmill doorframe, but this gave her a perfect view of the ground rushing up below her. She could hear the helicopters again, too, above her. They didn't need to do anything more, she was already dead.

_If you do that,  
I'll be sold,  
To find you…_

The burning island had almost reached its point of impact, which seemed to be the bottom of a canyon. She held one hand out in front of her in a feeble attempt to guard against the ground, as the island descended past the canyon walls, death only a few seconds away. She cringed, closing her eyes and letting go of the doorframe moments before impact. This proved to be a saving grace, as the tip of the island struck the ground with enough force to launch the teen into a crevice nearby, though she didn't escape harm entirely, striking her head against the wall and crumpling onto the ground. The world was blurry, and she fought to keep her eyes open, the sounds of helicopter propellers ringing in her ears.

_I saw that day,  
Lost my mind,  
Lord, I cry…_

The music was still playing, somehow. The fight for consciousness was now a lost cause, but she managed to get a glimpse of one of the helicopters dropping a small black object. Then her eyelids wouldn't obey her wishes anymore, and she went limp, her battle lost moments before the bomb struck the canyon floor.

_Maybe in time,  
You'll want to be mine…_


	2. Lord, I Cry

_Windmill, windmill, for the land,  
Turn forever, hand in hand…  
_  
It was still playing. The crash of a flying island, and even a bomb couldn't kill the damnable thing, though it was stuck playing the same two lines repeatedly.

It was the last thing she needed to hear, considering the events that had occurred a few hours ago. Her head was throbbing, and her hair was matted with blood. On top of that, every bone in her body felt like someone had gone over it with a power sander. She was not in the best shape.

She struggled to her feet, and swayed there for a few minutes until things stopped spinning before leaving the crevice that had saved her life.

_Windmill, windmi--_ She dropped a large stone onto the infernal boom box, cutting the looping verse short and granting her quiet, which she desperately needed. Even the slightest sound sent flashes of pain through her head.

She stumbled over to a nearby rock, clumping down and lifting one hand to her forehead. She had already concluded that she had a concussion, and that made escaping from the canyon even more difficult. She couldn't take more than a few steps without getting dizzy, but at least she had one thing to be thankful for. It was late summer, so she wouldn't burn up nor freeze while she was out here. That just left about nine or ten other ways for her to die. What a sorry situation she was in.

And so Noodle, expert guitarist for the Gorillaz and supersoldier, found herself in dire straits, stumbling through the canyon, hoping to find some easy way to get out. It was difficult to do so, though, as she had to stop every few minutes and let things settle back into place before continuing, lest she fall over. That wasn't something she wanted to happen, as she wasn't sure she would be able to get up again.

The majority of the daylight hours had already been spent while she was unconscious, and at that moment it struck Noodle as hopeless to attempt to travel any further. For the past five minutes little dots of color had been dancing in her vision, her head was throbbing worse than ever, and her legs felt like rubber. It was time to call it a night.

She stumble-crawled over to a small niche between to large rocks, hoping the weather decided to stay clear, though from the looks of the clouds that was unlikely. It was the most unfortunate time for despair to rear its ugly head, and it was clear enough, even though she was having trouble organising her thoughts. A couple of tears slipped down her cheek, but Noodle refused to allow herself to cry right now. This was far from a worst-case scenario, she could have a broken limb or something, or the head injury could be much more serious. She escaped, and considering the crash, this was a pretty light penalty for evading death.

It wasn't long before she was asleep, and this time it wasn't a forced sleep. Despite the uncomfortable conditions, she was beyond exhausted. She could have been lying on a bed of thumbtacks, and it wouldn't have mattered. She didn't even bother wiping the tear-stains from her face. 


	3. It's the Dawn You'll See

Noodle twitched, a slight sound of discontent escaping her lips as she fought to stay asleep. Unfortunately, it's difficult to keep sleeping when you've already started to wake up, so it was yet another battle she lost.

Her first observation upon opening her eyes was that her head didn't hurt that much anymore. The second was that the rest of her body seemed only too happy to fill in that particular void. She was stiff, and spending the night wedged between two rocks didn't help the wounds she had. Still, this was outweighed by the fact that she had a large amount of time to find a way out of the damnable canyon before sundown. So she slipped out from between the two boulders, pausing for a moment to recall which direction she had been going before heading off, pleasantly surprised to find that she didn't get dizzy from walking anymore. She was still injured, but now she was actually capable of finding a way out.

" 'Ey, face-ache, Russel, get in 'ere! We 'ave a bit o' a problem."

"Wot is it, Muds?" 2D appeared in the room, looking somewhat dazed. Then again, he always looked dazed.

Russel walked in behind the singer, nearly filling the entire doorway. "Ya, what's goin' on?"

"Did Noodle ever get back from 'er trip?"

"Noods? Nah man, I haven't seen her 'round here."

"I 'aven't seen 'er, either."

"Well then, we've really got a problem." The bassist set that day's paper down, face-up, to show the front page. 'Flying Island Shot Down Near Fell Good Inc.' "Says she wus deemed a threat, an' the Airforce got involved."

"The airforce?"

"Yeh, dullard, two 'elicopters. 'Ey say the island dropped into a canyon, an' the choppers bombed the crash site. We 'an safely assume 'at Noodle's dead."

"Noods is dead?" 2D's vacant expression was replaced by a look of concern, mingled with a lack of understanding. Russel looked about ready to tear something apart, but he didn't say anything.

"Yeh, dullard, she's dead. Now stop echoing me'r we'll be callin' ya 3D."

"But… but…" 2D was still attempting to wrap his severely limited brainpower around the concept, and Russ was still seething. "But…"

"Face-ache, I'm not too pleased neither, but we can't do anythin'.

Russel finally chose to say something, his voice low, suggesting he was attempting to contain his rage. "What 'bout a funeral, Murdoc?"

"Are ya daft? How're we suppos't 'ave a funeral for a _national threat_?"

"Damn, man, you're right… Well, we have t' do somethin' for her." 2D looked downright pitiful right now. What was with this talk about a funeral? She couldn't be dead. Not Noods, not his friend… Life can be real harsh to people who don't deserve it, sometimes.

"Like wot?"

"I dunno, man, but we have t' do somethin'. Hey, 2D, watcha… Eh, man, wait!" The singer had run off, and Russel was about to run after him, before deciding he could never keep up. "Man, that's the last thing 2D needs to hear."

"Never though I'd 'ear m'self say 'is, Russel, but I agree with ya this time."  



	4. Feel Good Inc

Despite moving with a pronounced limp, as her right leg had taken the worst beating of her limbs and had begun to swell, Noodle managed to keep something akin to a brisk pace for most of the morning, when luck decided to finally toss the battered girl a break. A narrow, winding path up the side of the canyon came into view, and, if she had been in good enough shape, she would have jumped for joy at the sight. After a short mental celebration, she spent a few moments examining the slope, before nodding to herself. It was serviceable. 

The going, however, was slow, as the uphill angle didn't agree with her leg, so she almost always had one hand on the wall for support. Thankfully, though she didn't have much room on the path, it never really became so narrow as to be hazardous, and the terrain was rather smooth, but as the path got nearer to the top of the canyon, the angle of ascent continued to get steeper. She found herself having to take rests periodically, to let the throbbing in her leg fade a bit before she could continue.

The entire process of climbing took about four and a half hours, and it was a gruelling challenge. Once she finally reached the top, the path seemed to have one more obstacle for her, as the path evened off about five feet below the top. She was forced to hop, grab on to the edge and pull herself out, but this, though a trial to be sure, was not particularly hazardous as the path had widened near the top as well.

The first attempt was a failure, and she came down hard on her injured leg, whimpering as bolts of pain flashed up from the soles of her feet. After a few minutes, when she could stand on it again, she turned around and tried again, and this time she got a better grip, and after a bit of a struggle she managed to heave herself up, rolling over once she reached the top, onto a soft carpet of green grasses.

There was a slight breeze, and she enjoyed the cool air as it passed by, closing her eyes and simply laying on her back in the grass for a while, smiling triumphantly.

However, the questions inevitably came. She was alive, she was out of the canyon, now what? She had no food, no clue where the nearest town was, and no money even if she did reach a town. She was injured, too, and she didn't know the extent of those injuries, so she needed medical attention. And then there was the matter of the helicopters….

Images of fire filled her head, and the sounds of the guns echoed in her ears, and she shook her head, brushing the bad memories away. That wasn't something to think about right now. She pushed herself up, and after a moment sitting with her arms out behind her, holding her up, she got to her feet and examined her surroundings.

The moment her eyes fell on it, though, a slight sense of nausea overtook her. The monolithic black tower stood out from the green as if it was some form of rot, and the very materials with which it was made seemed to exude the nature of the place. Painted on the very top of the tower, she knew, where the words 'Feel Good Inc.' in large red print, lined with flashing neon.

This was the real deal, something she had never wanted to deal with. They had created a mock-up version for the video, and it didn't do the building justice in the slightest. However, she also had a feeling that her best bet lie behind the tower, which meant that she was going to need to pass by it. In her situation, going around was not an option.

The scenery never changed, not even right up to the tower, where blades of grass brushed against the black concrete, but it _seemed_ to change. The land around seemed to become hollow, a huge expanse filled with nothing but monotone green. The color of the grass weakened and paled, becoming an almost sickly shade of yellow-green. Even the breeze changed, becoming a low, echoing howl as the wind picked up pace.

_  
It's the souls of those inside…_ She shuddered, brushing the disturbing thought out of her mind, and continued on. She didn't realise she wasn't alone until she was halfway past the tower's monstrous circumference. It was his voice that brought him to her attention; she could have just kept walking and never known about him if he hadn't spoken, but he did. His voice was low, silky, and he spoke at a languid pace. 

"The world doesn't want you anymore."

She flinched, turning back to look at whoever had spoken, to find the man staring up at the sun. He was dressed in what looked to be an expensive Italian suit, and a pair of black sunglasses rested on his head. He had long black hair, and his skin looked pale, as if he hadn't seen the sun in weeks. He just kept staring up, never looking at her, but was talking to her.

"This world thinks you're dead, you know that?"

She opened her mouth to respond before the meaning of the words registered, then hesitated. After a moment, she replied in a weak voice, aggravated with how meek she sounded. "W-what?"

"They think you died in the canyon."

He still didn't turn to face her, and it was aggravating, but Noodle wasn't in the mood to yell at him. Something about his manner, his voice seemed to be draining the protest she might've had.

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

A weak response, like the last. "No." She turned around, moving timidly, complete bewildered by her own behaviour, to try and get a look at his face. She came around in front of him, and he broke his gaze away from the sun for a moment, meeting her eyes. "Want to stay here?"

She shook her head, but still felt compelled to enter, for some reason. The man grinned, looking back to the sun.

"We're your best bet right now."

She hesitated, and though her mind screamed in protest, she took a wavering step forward. Though he didn't move his head, he still watched the gesture, and turned to her, his face serious. "You can't leave, you know that, right?"

She paused a moment as he turned around, following him as if she was in a trance, and she managed to clear her head long enough to speak the strongest sentences she'd said since meeting this man, "I'm dead. There's nowhere to leave to."

He pressed a button and the door opened, revealing a luxurious obsidian elevator, which he stepped into. She followed meekly, and it occurred to her that this might not be her idea. She turned around, pondering this as the doors closed, rendering that thought irrelevant.

"Welcome to Feel Good Inc." The elevator started up.


	5. Fading

I suppose the least I owe all of you is an explanation, those who were eager to read my writing, those who had to put up with my absence over the summer while writing a novel I still need to get around to finishing. I owe you much more than that, but this'll have to do.

You've had to put up with another disappearance from me, mostly due to this chapter, Fading, being an initially over-ambitious undertaking. This fanfic has, up until this point, been comprised of short chapters that ended leaving the audience hanging. I wanted to give you a bit more substance with my next chapter, and I tried to do that, and it just sort of fell apart. This is still the same chapter, I still have the same goal, but maybe I'll get a bit farther this time. Either way, I'll be updating more regularly from now on.

Mind you, all I'm asking you to do is read the fanfic.

Also, do not be alarmed. The fanfic is NOT ending with this chapter.

---

The elevator doors opened on a hazy room, the lowest in the tower. Dull, lifeless chatter provided a low din, off-set by the music in the background. The room was dimly-lit, and the black marble walls did nothing to brighten the room. The only color seemingly present was the deep crimson of the carpet.

Where Noodle would have attracted odd looks in most places, as her hair was almost entirely weighed down with drying blood and the entire right side of her forehead had turned a nasty shade of blue and had swollen considerably the patrons of the Inc. didn't seem to care about anything, let alone her.

The man at her side put his hand in front of her when she tried to exit, pressing a different number on the elevator panel, and the elevator rose again. It was only now that she realized just how silent the elevator was while moving, since much of the daze she presumed this man had put her in had faded, and she wasn't surprised that he had been able to sneak up on her.

A few minutes later the elevator opened again, revealing two halls, each leading both ways and each filled with numbered rooms. The man took a step forward and she followed, and he began to speak again as he led her. "This is one of the housing levels, the highest one, and the only one with vacancies. You'll be staying in room 378, right here. The rooms have a small kitchen, beds, a T.V., and a bathroom, but I don't think you'll be spending much time in here. Most people don't." He paused a minute to glance over at her as they arrived at the door, before adding, "You might want to clean yourself off."

This was a shared sentiment, as she was, and furthermore she felt exceptionally dirty. She was covered from head to toe in a mixture of dirt and blood, and her clothes were torn far beyond the point of repair.

"If you want a change of clothes, just ask, there's an intercom on the wall." He opened the door to the room and walked off, pausing long enough to turn around and say one final thing. "The lounge is on the first floor, the main room is directly above this one, on the 29th and final floor. The rooms begin on floor 15." He then disappeared around the corner, and Noodle entered her room, immediately using the intercom to call for a new set of clothes.

As soon as the fresh clothes arrived, she tossed them on the bed and headed for the bathroom, only leaving again after an hour-long shower wrapped in a bath robe. After a few minutes spent in front of a mirror frowning at the disfiguring bruises on her face, she changed into her new clothes and exited the room, intent on exploring the rest of the building. The clothes, she noted, seemed identical to everything else in the tower. She was wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt with a single dull strip of black down the left side of the torso, and a pair of black pants, designed like jeans but made out of a much softer fabric. A pair of black sneakers had been provided, each one covered in designs in the familiar red. Just like the rest of the tower, they appeared decadent and dull at the same time. She made her way to the elevator.

The lounge was of no interest to her, so she instead pressed the button marked twenty nine once she was in the elevator. The button glowed a deep violet, and the elevator started moving, taking a strangely long time to reach the floor above.

When the doors finally opened, Noodle was grateful to get out of the elevator, and she glanced about the room with disinterest. Her first thought was that they hadn't come close to getting the layout right in the music video.

The room was just as massive as the video had made it seem, and huge panels of glass made up most of the wall. Given the nature of this place, she doubted it was normal glass. Chances were it was Plexiglas, or something else meant to keep the 'patrons' in.

The rest of the room consisted vaguely of circular platforms of varying heights connected by stairwells. Several tables, most occupied, could be seen on each of these platforms, adorned with a black tablecloth that she thought would likely be velvet for some reason. There were no employees aside from the bartender, which wasn't surprising. The patrons didn't seem to drink or eat anything they ordered. She guessed they probably only did it to stay alive, and she noted, bemused, that none of them looked out of the window. The air was dead, full of cigarette smoke and the hushed drone of toneless conversation. Somewhere in the background, a single piano tolled out a melancholy tune.

She stepped down from the small, semicircular platform on which she stood and made her way across the chaos of rising and falling stairwells until she reached the window, and she nearly pressed her face up against the glass to peer outside. Visible through the glass was the vast blue of the sky, in stark contrast with the colorless room she stood in. The lowest level of clouds passed below, occasionally allowing glimpses of the vast green expanses underneath. She was grateful for the color, and she laughed slightly, thinking how close she'd come to imitating 2D. The emotion surprised her, and she stood silent for a moment, her expression becoming sombre. She'd only been here for about an hour, and already her emotions were deadening.

She glanced skyward, clearing away the fog this place had set resting over her mind, and sighed. She might never leave this place.

No one ever left this tower.

Day Two

There was only one platform that had tables near the window, and even then there was only one. Here sat a small, fragile teenage girl, her eyes staring wistfully out of the window. This was her only escape, the only thing that kept her from succumbing to the sickness of this place. The black platforms radiated the numbness, the soft glow of the blood red lights promised oblivion. Her only solace was the massive window. The outside of the tower seemed to blow the influence of this place away like a rainstorm. One hand brushed against the full glass of water in front of her, grabbing it gingerly and raising it to hesitant lips. She didn't trust anything from this place, but if she refused it, she'd become one of them. A 'patron.'

The others living in the tower seemed little more than shades. Their skin was ashen, their eyes lined with deep black circles. Their faces were gaunt, the cheeks caving in. Their eyes were glassy and dull, and she could see when she looked into them what Feel Good Inc.'s promises were.

The Inc. promised a free escape from daily suffering, a constant good feeling, a permanent good feeling. In truth, they eliminated suffering by eliminating emotion. Noodle sighed, gazing one last time at the outside world longingly, before standing and drinking the rest of the water distastefully. She then exited the main room, descending one floor and returning to her own living quarters. She didn't bother turning on the T.V., it was the same as anywhere else. All it played was music laced so heavily with the corruption of the tower that it almost hurt her ears. Her only other sanctuary was sleep, and she found herself spending increasing amounts of time asleep.  
  
Day Ten

Noodle glanced bleary-eyed at the ceiling, pushing the three layers of covers off of her and standing up, rubbing both eyes. She headed to the bathroom, staring at herself despairingly in the mirror. The face that stared back was no longer as noticeably injured, but nevertheless she found her appearance saddening. Her skin, once tanned, was now pale. She was grateful for the natural flush to her features, but she knew that if she stayed on in this place, she'd soon be as dead-pale as the others. She still held fast to her personality, seeking safety in dreams, both waking and sleeping, thankful even for the constant nightmares. Fear was feeling, and it meant that she had not died yet. Still, despite her moments of happiness, she could feel every emotion was being deadened. It was beginning to seem like a sound heard at a distance, but the distance was not yet so great.

She shook her head, meeting her own gaze with steely determination. She would not succumb to this place, no matter how long she was here. And she'd find a way out. There was no other option available to her.

The hope that flared up in her eyes died down almost immediately. Try as she might, she couldn't deny it. That flame was flickering. Soon it would gutter and die.

She had to get out.

Day Twenty-Four

She was beginning to look unhealthy. Even though Noodle had always been naturally thin, she was beginning to become sickly, and she stared out the window despairingly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the longing she'd clung to, the hope she'd relied on to continue searching still laid. It was a light in the growing darkness, fading and retreating but still there.

She was eating less, and sleeping more. As it was, she hadn't had anything to eat for two days, and she'd probably spent less than ten hours awake, out of forty-eight. She knew that soon, she'd either not wake up, or she'd wake up dead like the others. She raised the glass of water to her lips, glancing away from the window and down at the flawless black surface of the table. The tablecloths were made of velvet.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, sadness suddenly filling her. She found clarity for a moment, the deadening fog that had settled thickly over her head cleared away, and she clung to this emotion, battling the returning shadows with every ounce of her will. They were held at bay for a moment, and just as she had begun to hope again they broke through her resistance, as if a cruel vulture tormenting the dieing. She wiped the tear away, but not before it struck the table, beading against the waterproofed surface. She caught her reflected eye in the small pool. The light was dieing.

Day Thirty Six

She wasn't waking up much anymore. She knew she wasn't dieing, but she felt that the corruption of this place was keeping her asleep, since it couldn't render her emotions void. Her skin was now as ashen as the other patrons, and she felt emotions like a far off yell, echoing but barely reaching her ears. She had cried all she could, now the tears wouldn't come. She could barely even feel sad.

She stood up and walked awkwardly over to the bedside, finding a piece of paper. She'd asked for it the last time she woke up, not knowing why. Now she knew.

In a thin, neat script she wrote a single message, intent on her work. She did not sign the paper at the bottom.

_I fear I shall die my second death here. 2D, Russel, Murdoc, I'm sorry. I couldn't make it home after all._

She paused, staring intently at the paper, then she drew a little line and scrawled another message, this one not addressing anyone.

_My unwilling surrender is waiting._

She went back to sleep.  



	6. Wake Up, Break Out

There goes my promise about updating more often. Once again, I apologize, and to those of you who are putting up with my irregular updates, I'm grateful. I don't know if I'll be getting more updates up, but another chapter should be coming soon, this one centering around 2D.

Also, I'd like feedback on how I'm writing Noodle's dialogue. I figure I've got her actions mostly down-pat, but this is the first chapter in which she talks a lot, so I'd like to make certain I can write what she says right in preparation for future chapters.

---

Noodle sat bolt-upright in her bed, her eyes open as wide as was possible but staring into a different world. Though she was not awake, the emotions the Inc. had suppressed to a whisper were spilling out in a torrent of tears, though a genuine smile dominated her face. She was sad for the first time in days. She was happy for the first time in days.

She was dreaming.

In her dream, she sat at the window side table atop the Feel Good Inc. Tower, staring out the window in astonished silence. Circling the tower was the windmill island, and 2D stood on it, beaming a goofy, half-stupid smile at her and waving. She became aware that both Murdoc and Russel were standing behind him. The drummer stood with his arms crossed, smiling just as widely as 2D, and she even saw a smile on Murdoc's face.

Just as she was about to speak, to say something, they faded from her vision. Unable to do anything else, she launched herself forward, pressing her face against the window to try and catch a glimpse of them again.

The clouds were gone from the sky, showing only lush green grass, on which 2D stood, smiling and waving. She could see him as if she were standing only a few feet away from him, even though she was hundreds of feet above him, but she thought nothing of this. She only waved, dumbly but happily, opening her mouth to speak.

She woke to her own cries, startled out of her fantasy world. "2D-san!" She couldn't do anything but yell that word, repeat it to herself as she kept hold of the dream. When she finally regained control of herself, she became aware that her cheeks were wet with tears, which she wiped away. A few moments passed in silence, and then the tears came. She curled up sideways in the bed, sobbing and crying for what seemed an hour to her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

It was mid-morning when she woke up, still curled up sideways under the covers. She lay there for a moment, thinking about the dream. The dream she was certain was her saving grace. And, as she pulled herself out of bed, she became certain that 2D had said "Noods," though she hadn't heard him speak.

She didn't bother changing out of her pajamas (a pair of black pants and a matching black long-sleeve shirt, complete with black slippers), and instead went straight to the intercom, which she pressed.

"Yes?"

Her voice, which she finally recognized as hers again, replied. "Can I speak to the manager, please?"

Silence on the other end, then a curt reply. "No."

Aggravated, Noodle was quick to reply. "I'd like to speak to the manager, and it would be best if I did." The veiled threat apparently got through, and a shaken reply was offered.

"It's policy that clients can't speak with management…"

Another threat, though she didn't bother with pleasantries this time. "You know what I am, and if you don't let me speak with the man who brought me here, I'll--"

She was cut off, and the person on the other end sounded apologetic and fearful at the same time. "M-my apologies, Miss Noodle, we'll…. We'll let you speak with him in a moment."

"I'd like him to come to my room."

"It will be arranged."

He was there in two minutes, and she could tell he was trying to mesmerize her again, but it wasn't going to work this time. She slammed the door behind him when he entered, and quickly manoeuvred herself between him and his only exit. "I want out."

"No one leaves the Inc." He emphasized every word, but his confidence and slightly-too-pleasant grin faltered when she only repeated what she'd said.

"I want out."

"You can't leave, and even if you did, the world doesn't want you anymore!"

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "That won't work this time. I want out, and if you don't let me leave, I'll tear the doors off of one of the elevator shafts and climb out."

He paled visibly, shaken. "You can't…"

"I can, Manager-san, and I will. Let me leave."

Shoulders slumped in defeat, he nodded. "I'll have to let you out myself. Follow me."

She stepped out of the way of the door, but kept even pace to him for the entire walk. He didn't try anything, merely stepping into the elevator and punching a long password into a keyboard set above the numbers. He then hit G, and the elevator hummed to life, descending rapidly.

She was back on the ground in less than three minutes, and she stepped out and walked off without another word to the suited man in the elevator. The world's weight seemed to fall from her shoulders as she stepped out, and after her elation at having escaped wore off, she had to stop for a moment, puzzled. This was the first time in thirty-six days that she'd felt free, and the first time that making it back to Kong seemed logical.

She shrugged, grinning and starting off away from the Inc., away from the chasm, away from the past. The slippers on her feet, just a bit too large, flopped comically as she walked, the wind blowing her hair back. It was shoulder-length now, and the bangs kept getting in her eyes.

The sun shined softly down on her as she went on her way, illuminating a field of green grass. In her head, 2D waved up at her, grinning, and said "Noods," though she couldn't hear him speak. 


	7. I'll Be Sold To Find You

As Noodle began her journey away from the tower and away from the canyon, smiling and re-enacting the dream in her head, 2D was miles away, lying in a hospital bed for the second time since her disappearance. He hadn't put himself there intentionally, he had pleaded, he'd just taken a few too many painkillers… The other two band members had just looked away, trying to hide the expressions on their faces. Worry, mixed with sorry, and grief.

They were worrying about him. It was a concept he could barely grasp, and not out of a lack of brainpower, either. Russel he could understand, but Murdoc? Worried about him?

He turned over in the bed, trying to think about something else. He wasn't able to think of anything, so he settled for that.

He'd been in that bed for two days, unconscious for three quarters of that time. He'd sat there, dreaming of burning helicopters and shapes made of fire laughing. Deep, rolling gouts of laughter spilling forth from wavering mouths as they'd lurched forward, as if to swallow him out when he felt himself drawn back, only to watch in horror as the fire-things instead consumed Noodle. Then the fire had disappeared, and she had been standing on a carpet of green grass, looking at him. A tear had spilled down over her cheek, and he'd lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her, convinced finally that she was alive. When he pulled back, he'd held a charred corpse, but the tear was still there. And, in the distance, a dark tower dominated the landscape.

A voice had come from that tower, rich and paralyzing, malevolent in a gentle manner. "Take your medicine, 2D. She's gone, and you need to dull the pain." Then laughter, the same laughter as the flame-things, and he'd woken screaming. Screaming, hysterical, and raving illegibly. But he'd been told he kept repeating the same two phrases over and over in the midst of his delirium, before the doctors had put him out again. "You can' do 'at t' my li'l sister!" "Give Noods back!"

That had been twelve hours ago. 2D turned over again in his bed, trying to sort through his thoughts. His few, precious thoughts. And somewhere in this sparse pile he turned over one, and he was talking to himself.

_She's not comin' back, an' ya aren't helping' t' remember 'er._

"You're wrong! She's alive!"

_She's dead, or she can' come back 'ere. Either way, ya can't keep clingin' t' 'er like 'is, an' you're killin' yourself._

"Wot?"

_Stop with th' pills, D, an' ya might be able t' live long 'nuff t' remember 'er._

Silence. Befuddled and deeply depressed, the singer fell back into a sleep, with only nonsense dreams to greet him.


	8. A Chance Encounter

In the middle of a wide, rolling plain of green grass walked a soaked girl in black silk pajamas. The sky was dreary, overcast, blocking the merciful sun with lukewarm rain, pouring down on her. Her purple hair was matted to her head, and hung in clumps down over her face that she couldn't be bothered to push away. She'd been walking for a day now, and so far nothing had appeared on her horizon. She was beginning to lose hope again, and she cursed herself for not having the common sense to stock up before leaving the Inc.

Still, her mind eventually began to wander from the self-torment again, falling into the sound of the rain striking the ground, the _schlop_ of each soaked slipper rising and then falling again, _squelch._

The faint sound of traffic in the distance.

Her eyes snapped open, gazing intently to the southwest, seizing on the sight of traffic. A rare few cars sped past on a thin strip of pavement, making their way through the murk. There were people here, and she didn't know whether to rejoice or hide. It was repeating in her head now, that she was on the run, wanted. People might mean danger, they might mean losing the life she'd fought so hard to retain.

Still, she was out of options. So, she began to walk forward again, towards the road, towards people. _Schlop, squelch. Schlop, squelch._

As she came to reach the roadway it fell silent once again, now nothing more than a barren strip of asphalt in a soggy, grassy plain. She sighed, looking both ways for some sign of a vehicle and then sitting down on the side of the road. Seemed she would have to wait. Again, she fell into the dreary monotone sound about her, devoid even of the sound of her own footsteps for variety.

One dreary minute dragged onward to the next, time seeming to slow for the girl sitting, legs drawn up by the side of the highway. Noodle began to think that the traffic of the day had all passed, and that she was sitting there, waiting for naught. Her stomach also voiced it's opinion, as another wave of hunger washed over her, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for a day either. It seemed the poor guitarist couldn't catch a break.

And, just as she'd near given up on anyone coming, the sound of a motorcycle caught her ears, and she turned to look just as the vehicle came into view. The bike was black with vibrant orange stripes, with a rider wearing black leather with a helmet matching his bike. As it came nearer, it started slowing down, skidding to a stop just in front of the soaked girl. A moment later the motorcyclist lifted his visor, revealing a cheerful smile and a pair of round glasses.

"Hey, it isn't a good idea to be sitting by the side of the road, is it? You'll get soaked…" He paused, before chuckling. "Looks like you have that covered. Need a ride?"

She nodded, ecstatic that her luck seemed to have turned around. "Hai."

Still grinning, he motioned to the back of the motorbike. "Climb on. Where ya headed?"

Getting to her feet, she gave the man a respectful bow, before climbing on behind the man, too desperate to really care who this man was. "I am in your debt." A momentary pause. "The nearest city, if that's no trouble."

He nodded. "I'm heading to London, that work for you?"

"Hai."

"Alright then." That done, he flipped the visor back down, almost starting the bike again when he remembered something. Reaching into a bag he had tied to the bike, he pulled out another helmet like his and handed it to her. Once she'd strapped it on, he started the bike, and they were on their way.

The clouds broke after about an hour of riding, revealing a radiant orange sun, steadily approaching sunset. Noodle hadn't had much of a sense of time wandering about with naught but the dreary grey sky above her, and she had thought it about noon, so needless to say she was a bit surprised by this. The motorcyclist didn't want to keep riding at night, so in about another fifteen minutes they pulled into a small town, stopping at the local motel/bar. The man apologized profusely for making her stay in a place like this, but she shook her head. She didn't mind, not considering her circumstances.

"Alright then, if you say so." He shrugged, turning around to walk into the bar and then appearing to remember something else. "Oh, and do me a favor…" He turned around, setting one hand on her shoulder. It wasn't that difficult, he was nearly double her height. "Keep your helmet on, okay?"

Noodle blinked in surprise, regarding the man for a moment before nodding and offering a muffled "Hai." Satisfied, he turned around and walked into the building, flipping his visor up.

"Hello, bub." The man at the counter was a rotund man with thinning grey hair and a jovial smile, a pair of large glasses set on his face. "Whatcha lookin' for?"

The motorcyclist replied with a smile. "Two rooms, if that wouldn't be too much trouble. Oh, and is there anyplace in this town that sells clothes?"

Pausing for a minute, the man behind the counter nodded, his gaze flicking to Noodle for a moment. "No, but Longsville down the road a ways has a clothes store. Shouldn't be more than a fifteen minute drive, bub. And I got a couple vacancies for ya, too."

"Alright, we'll take them. Thanks."

"Mind if I ask ya your name, bub?" The man turned around to fetch a pair of keys, laying them on the counter.

"Randolph Maers, pleasure to meet you. You want me to pay now, or when we leave?" Randolph reached over and grabbed both pairs of keys. Noodle simply stood behind him, silent.

"Pleasure to meet you." Fetching a pen, the man behind the counter marked something down on a book in front of him. "When ya leave'll be fine. How long will you be stayin', by the way?"

"Two days, I'd guess. That alright?"

"Fine with me. Oh, and what's your name, miss?" He glanced over at Noodle, who opened her mouth to answer before Randolph interjected.

"Matsura Hitomi. I found her out in the rain by the side of the road, and I'm giving her a ride to London."

Seeming satisfied with the answer, the man behind the counter nodded. "Alright then, bub."

"See you tomorrow." Offering another friendly smile, Randolph turned around and started to walk out, waving over his head. Noodle followed, still silent.

Outside their rooms, numbers 15 and 16, Randolph glanced over his shoulder at the little Japanese girl. "I'll get you a change of clothes tomorrow, those are probably ruined. Also, would you mind talking to me for a minute?"

She shook her head, and he unlocked the door and went inside, Noodle following close behind. Once he was inside he turned the lights on and flopped down on the bed, sitting and watching her. "Well, I'm glad you're alive."

She blinked, taking off the helmet. "What?"

"The papers said you were dead, and I bought it. Imagine my surprise, Noodle, when I'm riding along and see you sitting there by the side of the road." He grinned. "I acted normal, but I was happy. Very happy, I happen to be a big fan of your music."

"Oh."

"I'll take you to London, and from there you can catch a bus or something to Essex. No offence, but I don't want to be around you too long. You understand, right?"

A somber look aimed toward the floor, but she nodded. "Hai."

"If we could change your hair and outfit a bit, just so people wouldn't recognize you off-hand, you should probably be alright. People have already been rallying against what's happened, and you didn't do anything wrong. If you get to Kong and lay low, you should be fine." He bit his lip, pondering something rather intensely. "Use the name I gave you, by the way. It should go without saying, but…" He shrugged. "Not much else that can be done today, unfortunately. You look beat, get some sleep." He smiled, and she nodded.

"Hai."

"And don't be so melancholy. You're alive, and it looks like things have gotten a bit better, huh?" He didn't know the half of it, frankly.

"Hai." She brightened a bit, but not much. The reality was quite hard to swallow, and it didn't line up with her hopes. Still, it looked like there was a chance she could go back to her normal life… She just didn't know how slim it was.

Still somber, she exited and walked to her room, unlocking the door and stepping inside. She was asleep almost as soon as she hit the bed.

---

The other chapter was really far too sappy for this story, and it just blocked the entire storyline up. Not to mention I introduced cardboard cut-out family #828 as characters. I had a plan originally, but it turned out to be crap. I like this chapter much better, I'm just not certain if it's going to work the way I planned or if it'll need some editing.

Anyway, I'd love to hear your opinions on my work thus far, and most importantly I want to know if I'm portraying Noodle properly. I'm still not sure, but I _think_ I've got her personality nailed down.


	9. Randolph and Clothes

Noodle awoke at around noon the following day, her night utterly dreamless as far as she could recall. Yawning and sitting up, she realized that she'd hopped straight into bed in sopping wet cloths, which meant she was ice cold, and still wet. Not having much of an option, the teenage girl got up and stretched, hoping the sun was out today so she could sundry. A quick peek out the window through the blinds told her this was not the case. It was another dreary, rainy day. 

She turned away from the window to see if she couldn't find some other means of warming up in the tiny motel room just as someone started rapping on her door. Walking over, she opened it a crack and glanced outside, before opening it fully to allow Randolph entry.

He grinned. "Hey, uh… I picked you up some new clothes, figured you'd need 'em. Not certain if this is what you would usually wear, but if it isn't, good."

She blinked as the biker proceeded to dump a bag apparently full of clothes in her arms, and then walk out with a wave. Interesting visitor to have first thing in the morning, or afternoon as it were.

Regardless, she decided to do a bit of an inspection of her room, which really turned up nothing. It was a small motel room, a chair by the window, door on the other side of said window, a bed in the middle of the room with a bedside table beside it. There was a lamp and a clock on the table. The bathroom held just about as much mystery, containing a sink, toilet, and shower. Complementary towels occupied a couple shelves over the sink. There was also a closet, but she didn't bother looking in there. The entire room was sort of a homey-brown color, with a dark green carpet that was quite soft. The bathroom was again, typical faire. Yellow wallpaper, white tiled floor.

Coming to a plan of action, Noodle decided to inspect the clothes Randolph had left for her, and then hop in the shower. To that end, she set the bag on the bed and started to pull it's contents out, hoping they would fit. Randolph would have had to guess at the sizes.

The contents of the bag were a long white turtleneck shirt, and a black knee-length skirt, as well as a pair of shin-length black socks and black sneakers. The bag also included a second set of clothes, a black t-shirt with a skull on it and a pair of pre-faded jeans. Randolph had seen fit to put a hole in the right knee of the pants. Along with this, there was another pair of black sneakers. At a glance everything seemed like it would fit, but guessing like that was oftentimes dangerous. Two pairs of underwear and two bras were also included. Now that was a humorous image, Randolph the glasses-wearing biker, in black leather, buying girl's underwear from a clothing store.

Well, only one way to find out if everything fit or not, and that was to try them on. First, though, Noodle took her shower, disappearing into the bathroom and emerging about twenty minutes later wrapped in a towel.

After another twenty minutes of trying on clothes, she determined that Randolph was an amazing guesser, seeing as how most of the clothes more-or-less fit. The turtleneck's sleeves were slightly too long and it was just a bit big in general, but it was workable. The skirt fit well, as did the T-shirt, but again the jeans were a bit too big. Socks were socks, and the shoes were just a bit snug. Nothing that would bother her, and if it turned out it did she could always just have them stop by the store and trade them in. No biggie.

So then, it came down to picking an outfit. Both shirts went with the skirt, but only the T-shirt went with the pants, and the socks and shoes were the same for both. Trying to think which outfit was least like her, since that seemed to be what Randolph was going for, she decided to go with the turtleneck/skirt combination, and with that decision made…

What happened next?

She figured she should probably go over and see what was what with Randolph, so that was her decided course of action. After a moment to get everything straightened out, Noodle, who didn't look quite so much like herself anymore, left the room and made a short dash to Randolph's, knocking on the door. She was let in almost immediately, leaving her only slightly wet, if one could even call it wet.

"Hey, that outfit looks good on you."

Noodle smiled, feeling much happier than the previous night. Seemed everything was happy-go-lucky again for a while. "Thank you for the clothes, Randolph-san." She offered a polite bow, which he returned with a nod.

"Looks like everything fit well, I kinda had to guess." He shrugged. "Now then, one more thing regarding your appearance." He walked over to the other side of his bed and pulled another bag up, revealing a number of different hair dyes. Her color selection was Blonde, Brunette, Auburn, Brown, and Black. All natural hair colors, nothing strange. "I'm not a hairstylist, but I could probably pull off a realistic dye job in a pinch. So, what's your favorite color?"

Noodle glanced at the dyes, feeling rather reluctant. She was rather fond of her abnormal hair color, it set her apart. That was the last thing she needed at this point though, she supposed, so she reached out and tapped the Auburn dye box.

"Y'sure? Alright… And I hope you aren't too attached to your hair, but it's a dead giveaway… Sorry."

Noodle shook her head. "No, do not worry, it is fine. I understand, Randolph-san."

He shrugged. "Alright, if you say so."

Fifteen minutes of careful, careful hair dyeing later, and Noodle was now a redhead. Considering her hair reached down to her upper back at this point, she looked decidedly like someone else. She supposed she was, or was going to be pretending to be for a bit, so this was a good thing, and despite her fondness of her natural hair color, red wasn't exactly a bad color for her. Just…. It would be a bit of a shock for anyone who knew her previously and caught sight of her.

A couple moments passed in silence, shattered as Noodle decided to try and strike up conversation. "Randolph-san?"

The biker looked up. "Yeah?"

"Uhm… I know little to nothing of you beyond your name. Would you mind telling me something of yourself?" Straightforward question, spoken with Noodle's ever-polite wording.

"Oh, uhm… Sure." He paused for a minute, appearing to be thinking about something. Presumably where to start. "Well, let's see… I'm a poet, and a motorcyclist at the same time, driving around to see if I can't pick up odd jobs. I actually have a house, I just don't spend too much time there… Uh, anything else?"

She shook her head. "No, that is enough. Thank you, Randolph-san."

"You up for a bite to eat in about five minutes?"

She glanced over, mouth wide. She'd forgotten, or not noticed, or something, but she was equal parts parched and starved. The enthusiasm in her voice was impossible to mistake. "Hai."

"Alright then."

---

Wow, I've only just realized that I've been (sorta) working on this fanfic for over a year. It's not as big of a landmark for a fic as for a webcomic, and my updating schedule has been horrible, but still. SFiF is a year old, and we're approaching the 10k word marker. Just like to say thanks to everyone who keeps reading this, and especially to the reviewers. Thanks for putting up with me!

Geez, I really do sound like I'm writing authors comments on a webcomic.


	10. It's Going to Rain

"Now boarding the eight-forty to Essex!"

A small, red-haired girl of Asian ancestry was standing on the platform, staring at the doors to the train in front of her as they slid open, hands lightly clenching and unclenching. Her face was cool, collected, but artificially so. No matter how casual the girl seemed on the outside, inside she was ecstatic. There were butterflies in her stomach, she was more nervous than she'd ever been, but she was happy as could be. Right in front of her were the last few steps she'd ever have to take outside of Essex, the last few steps before her homecoming.

She was not weak. She was not better off dead or forgotten. The past few weeks had seen her shot at and knocked from the sky, bombed and left to wander in a chasm. She'd escaped that, she'd escaped the Inc. and she'd survived wandering without food or water all the way to the road. Despite the fact that she needed to, at least for now, rely on others, she was alive and in the moment. Her eyes were bright, even if her face was set.

Randolph was leaning against a column a way away, a smirk drawn across his face. Noodle looked over at him, and the smirk widened. He motioned for her to step on the train, and she nodded. A step forward, and she paused. "Thank you, Randolph-san."

He shrugged. "Just a small act of kindness. Now get on, you've got family waiting."

"Farewell."

"Goodbye, Hitomi." She nodded, stepped forward once, twice, three times, and disappeared into the train. Randolph chuckled to himself, turning around and stuffing his hands into his jacket. "Too bad I couldn't use her name." With a grin he started walking, heading down the stairs and off the platform, and moments later out of the station altogether. The sun was shining, his bike was waiting outside. Best to get on the road again.

Five minutes later, the train started to pull out of the station, and out into the English countryside.

Down the line, in Essex, a certain blue-haired singer had accepted that he was never going to see his little sister again. There was no funeral, no memorial service, and there wouldn't be for a while. Russel said that they were fighting the decision to label Noodle a threat, that it might be possible in the future. It wasn't soon enough. Nowhere near soon enough, but 2D couldn't argue.

They had agreed to put up a tombstone for her in the graveyard outside of Kong, as close as possible to the studio. They already had the stone; they were going to be putting it up tomorrow. It was something. Something was better than nothing.

It was calling for rain again tomorrow, it was usually calling for some form of bad weather. The singer wished it wouldn't rain, but he couldn't argue with the weather. Well, he could, but it never did any good. Besides, it was Murdoc's job to get mad and yell at stuff.

So, 2D was left to his own devices, moping about in his (now pill-bottle-less) room. Not that his mind was on painkillers. No, it was meandering along the line of thought he'd been going over for the past hour. It was going to rain tomorrow. They were putting up the tombstone and it was going to rain tomorrow. It was going to rain tomorrow, and they were burying her.

No casket, no body. Some flowers, yes, but nothing else. Just cold, undisturbed earth at the foot of a cold, unfeeling stone with her name and some words carved into it. And the numbers, the finite numbers, the too-real numbers.

But it was the truth. She was dead, and he couldn't get her back. So tomorrow they were going to bury her.

It was a long time ago now, the news. It didn't hurt as bad, just a dull aching. He didn't like it, if the hurt was fading then the memory was fading.

Yet… that was how it had to be. 2D sighed, the profundity of his thoughts depressing him. He'd reached the end of his philosophical reach, so he went back to thinking about something else. Something to cheer him up.

Noodle was in a train on the tracks, rolling straight towards him, but she'd be arriving too late tomorrow to go up to Kong. She just wouldn't have the energy. And it was going to rain tomorrow...


End file.
